Spina Bifida

Today, Jessie went to the doctor’s for her monthly check-up. She’s approximately 16 weeks and 5 days. Instead of going to the baby clinic we normally go to, she goes to the hospital where our baby will be born. We’ve been looking forward to this visit because the doctor could tell with some certainty what sex our baby might be. Since I had to work, I reassured her before I left that regardless of whether we had a boy or girl, I would love him or her equally. 

When she finally called after the visit to the doctor, Jessie said that she was able to see a very clear picture of our baby on the ultrasound. She said the baby was waving to her. I smiled at the thought of this. She went on to say that our baby has 5 fingers on each hand, 5 toes on each foot, and a strong heartbeat. Everything that should be there is there. But I could tell something was wrong. 

After a bit, Jessie said the doctor had stated our baby’s head was shaped like a lemon. This was a likely indication that he or she might have some neural tube defects. I didn’t know what this meant, but it didn’t sound good. Jessie was devastated by this news. The whole bright future I had planned for our child was instantly wiped out. I couldn’t say anything.

Deep down, I always knew there was a chance that something might happen. But no parent ever wants to think about it happening to their own child. It always happens to someone else’s. Jessie then told me that our baby was possibly a boy. But at this point, it didn’t really seem to matter.

I immediately went online and started to find everything I could about neural tube defects and lemon heads. Turns out, if your baby has a head that’s shaped like a lemon, meaning the top is concave on both sides, chances are, he/she might have spina bifida, which is a birth defect caused by the incomplete closure of the embryonic neural tube. I spent all day and night reading up on this, hoping to find some glimmer of hope that possibly the doctor was wrong. 

I ask to see the ultrasound picture, hoping that perhaps the head is OK. Maybe the doctor just overreacted. I look at the picture. The concave shape is clear as day. The only thing I can cling on to is that the doctor said he isn’t certain anything is wrong with our baby. We have to wait for the result of the blood test and need to come back in a month for another check-up. A month is a long time. Especially when there’s a chance for bad news.

I go on forums specifically aimed at parents who have babies with spina bifida. I ask a ton of questions, but most responses, though encouraging, don’t help ease my worries, only increase them. One replier remarks that she hopes to, “NEVER HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN.” I couldn’t agree with her more.

The wife is already starting to worry and cry about the situation. I tell her not to worry and to keep a positive outlook. We’ll get through this together. Her parents echo my feelings and encourage her to remain strong, but I feel those are all empty words. How can one not worry at times like these?